Ups and Downs
by Leopardkala
Summary: A typical afternoon in the life of a young Spencer Reid.


"School is over."

"Hmm?" Spencer murmured, not looking up from his paper. The essay on his desk was due in two days, and he wouldn't have time to finish it tomorrow. He understood the topic though, and he had a good rhythm going; he should be able to get it done in an hour or two...

"Spencer?" Footsteps sounded, coming closer, and Spencer looked up, startled.

"School is over Spencer," the teacher repeated. She was young, just finished her education, and new to the school. Her eyes were kind, peering over white-rimmed frames. "The study hall is closed."

Spencer blinked. "Oh... alright. Thank you," he said. He started gathering his papers, keeping them in careful order, and slipped them and his reference books into his bag. Hopefully he'd be able to finish the essay at his house... so long as his mother wasn't having a bad day. And so long as the bullies didn't catch him. Spencer cast an apprehensive glance out the window; it was completely pointless of course, since that window only showed the biology class' garden, but he couldn't quite help himself.

"Ah." Spencer glanced back at the teacher to see her staring out the window as well. She bit her lip, clearly in some sort of inner conflict, before appearing to reach a decision. "Spencer," she began, turning to look at him, "I have some tests that I need to mark, and I can do that just as easily here as I can at home. If you like, I could stay here for a few hours and let you keep studying."

"I'd- that would be- I mean, thank you," Spencer said, surprised. In a few hours he should have finished his essay, and the bullies would have almost certainly gone home. Maybe he'd even have time to make that trip to the library tonight!

The teacher smiled at him and went back to her desk. Spencer pulled his papers out of his bag again and returned to writing.

The light from the window moved across the tiles. The only sound in the room was the soft scratching of pens and the occasional rustling of pages.

Finally, Spencer put the cap on his pen and surveyed the finished essay with satisfaction. He was completely finished the next two days homework, and it was only- he glanced at the clock and started. Six o'clock! He had to get home for dinner.

"Umm," he started. The teacher looked up at the sound.

"Are you done Spencer?" she asked, setting down her pen. Spencer saw that she had been doing the newspaper crossword, and instantly felt guilty.

"Yes ma'am," he said. "I'm sorry for keeping you here for three hours." He gathered his materials together and once again slipped them into his bag.

"Oh, it was no trouble at all," she said. "It's the least I can do to help the only eleven year old in the entire school." She laughed.

"Ah- well," Spencer stammered, blushing. "I'm not- I mean, you shouldn't-"

"I'm just joking, Spencer" The teacher said, smiling. "I really don't mind staying after." She leaned forwards. "You're a great kid Spencer- and not just because you're smart."

Spencer opened his mouth, but couldn't think of anything to say. After a moment he closed it and gave his teacher a shy smile, before grabbing his bag and almost running out of the classroom.

It was dimming outside, though still a little while away from nightfall. Spencer automatically scanned for any other students as he walked, but because of the time he didn't see any. He walked quickly, knowing he should already be at home.

Spencer stopped at a small grocer, remembering that they needed some things for dinner that night. He pushed open the old door, the squeak of the hinges almost covering the tinkle of the bell. Keeping his head down, he darted to the back of the store, where the items that needed to be cold were kept. Relived that the cooler was actually working, he quickly grabbed what he needed and brought it to the counter.

He was digging through his pockets for change when he heard "You're Spencer, right? Diana's boy?" and looked up in alarm.

The old grocer was grinning at him. "Your mom taught my son a few years back. He said she was the best teacher he ever had- smartest woman in the whole school. Knew everything about her subject. How is she? I haven't seen her in a while."

Spencer told his heart to calm down. "My mom's fine," he said, summoning up a small smile, "She's just feeling a bit under the weather recently."

The grocer made a sympathetic sound. "Being that smart all the time must take a lot of energy," he said. "I tell you, though, you're lucky to have the mom you do."

"Yeah," Spencer said softly.

To his relief, the grocer didn't say anything else while packing up the food and making change. Before much longer, Spencer was able to make his escape.

Walking quickly, it wasn't long before Spencer reached his house. Deftly balancing groceries and schoolwork, he managed to dig out his keys. He unlocked and pushed open the door, stepping in off the weather-beaten porch.

"Close the door!" his mother yelled.

Spencer slammed the door shut behind him, dropping his schoolbag on a worn chair. "Mom," he said cautiously, moving into the kitchen, "I'm sorry I was late. I was doing homework and I lost track of time-"

"Did they follow you?" she interrupted, peering through a hole in the taped-shut window curtains.

Spencer held back a sigh. At least her paranoia wasn't focused on him right now. "Nobody followed me, I made sure of it." He actually had, though he'd been more focused on checking for bullies than for his mother's imaginary watchers. "I bought some food on the way home, so I should have dinner ready in a little bit."

His mother turned sharply to face him. Spencer noticed that her blond hair was damp, so she must have remembered to take a shower today. She hadn't bothered to brush it, though. "Where did you get it from?" she demanded.

"At the King Street grocery," Spencer said warily. "The cashier said that you'd taught his son a few years ago, you might know him..."

"No! We can't eat anything from there," she said, grabbing the bag from off the counter. "Get rid of it, all of it." She flipped up the lid and started dumping the contents into the garbage.

Spencer almost protested, but he held the words back. It was useless to argue with his mother when she was in one of her moods; at least she wasn't being overly suspicious of him today. "Alright mom. I won't use anything from there. I'm going to make dinner for us now, alright?"

She peered at him suspiciously, but, to his relief, nodded and retreated to her bedroom.

Spencer made dinner alone in the quiet kitchen. The loss of the groceries had meant his plans for dinner had to be changed, but he found a small bag of pasta in one of the cupboards. No sauce, of course, but there was still some cheese in the fridge. He'd make do.

He always did.


End file.
